


Detente

by missdibley



Series: The Red Nose Diaries [2]
Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Chicago, Cunnilingus, F/M, Face Slapping, RPF, intercourse, tom hiddleston rpf - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 11:09:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4519656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom and Carmen meet again, quite by accident, and discover that they’ve both been missing the same thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Detente

**Carmen**

_I wore this push-up bra for nothing_ , I thought as I regarded myself in the mirrored doors of the elevator at the Waldorf Astoria hotel in Chicago. This bra, the matching panties, a black velvet gown, 3” heels and thigh-high silk stockings, artfully flicked eyeliner, and hair falling down one shoulder that still smelled faintly of jasmine, all of it, for nothing.

I had spent the evening at a fundraiser for my beloved alma mater. Five hours of smiling and dancing, posing for pictures with donors who could give more in a single check than I could earn in ten years.  Five hours of eating tiny food off tiny plates, looking at but not drinking the Champagne so I didn’t spend the night running to the bathroom every five minutes. Five hours of apologizing again and again to the head librarian, the director of major gifts, the provost, and the university president himself, over what everybody euphemistically called “the incident with Mr. Hiddleston”.

Tom Hiddleston. Fuck. That. Dude.

And I did. I fucked him, last month, after we got kicked off the tour of the new university library.

Twice in the limo on the way to his hotel. Once again on the floor of his suite at The Peninsula. A handjob in the shower. He went down on me while I looked at the room service menu. I sucked his cock while we waited for the food (ribeye for him, filet mignon for me, and we split an order of fries) to be delivered. After dinner, I rode him, hard and long and fast, all the while cursing him out or telling him to shut the fuck up while he, in turn, called me every name in the book while he sang the praises of my tight, wet pussy.

Yeah.

After fucking each other’s brains out, we passed out on his big, absurdly comfortable bed. Or rather, he passed out and I pretended to sleep. I gave myself precisely five minutes to look at him, to examine and take note of the location of every single freckle on his face, his neck, and his shoulders. Five minutes to nuzzle the hollow of his throat. Five minutes to trace the outline of his lips, swollen from kissing me, from licking me, from devouring me. And then I was gone.

That was a month ago. And I haven’t been able to reach orgasm since.

Having been responsible for my own orgasms since I started having them at the age of twelve, not being able to come by my own hand (or with any of the toys in my goody drawer) has been completely maddening. I tried hooking up with an old boyfriend, a couple of guys I met on Tinder, but nothing. I’d scream, they’d get confused, and then there I’d be, alone, in bed, crying with frustration.

Having alienated any man who has tried to have sex with me since Tom, I gave up what would likely be another lonely Saturday night to attend this fundraiser as the university’s number one booster. As long as I behaved myself, Mr. Bower the librarian and, more importantly, the president, would let bygones be bygones, and all would be forgiven.

So I behaved. I was a good girl. A good, hard-up girl who couldn’t find one hot man at the party to haul up to the room I booked so I wouldn't have to go home in the snowstorm that was forecast to hit Chicago right around midnight.

Once the elevator reached my floor, I stepped out, kicked off my heels, then picked them up before I shuffled to my room. Once I was safe inside, I unzipped the dress, shimmied out of it, and crawled on top of the bed. There was a chocolate on the pillow. I unwrapped it, popped it in my mouth, and closed my eyes for a second.

**Tom**

“But there isn’t the slightest hint of a snowstorm here!”

“I’m sure there isn’t, mate, but the American weather service insists there’s a big storm on the East Coast that simply cannot be avoided. Not to mention another storm coming from the west that’s due to hit Chicago tonight.”

“And there’s nothing you can do? Another airline? I could drive to a different airport…”

“My assistant already tried that, Tom. Flights are cancelled at every airport in the Midwest. I’m sorry, but you’re stuck there. At least until Monday night, when the storms will have cleared.”

“But it’s Saturday night now!”

“Make the best of it. Go get a steak, find a girl…”

“Fuck it. I’m knackered. First the meeting, then the traffic to the airport, then the traffic back to town. I’m ordering a bottle of Jameson from room service.”

“At least you were able to get your room back at the hotel.”

“Yeah,” I muttered. “At least there’s that.”

“Listen, To—”

I hung up on Luke, then leaned back against the elevator wall, grimacing at my reflection. There were bags under my eyes, which were bloodshot. My hair, still wet with the snow that had just begun to fall when the car pulled up in the hotel driveway, looked thin and limp. I looked my age, and then some.

I was last in Chicago a month ago. What did I do? I ate some deep dish pizza that gave me heartburn, met the spry German architect I’d be playing in a movie that was due to start shooting next year, and got kicked off a tour of his library after I got into a shouting match with Carmen.

Carmen. What an obvious name for the loud, rude, fiery girl who insulted me, my education, my presence in her precious group. The terrible American woman who fucked me so hard I forgot my own fucking name.

Closing my eyes just brought it all rushing back. The soft breasts with the hard peaks that felt so good in my mouth. The round belly that seemed to be made expressly for my hands to caress it. And her cunt. Jesus Christ. Hot, slick and inviting. Delicious. Perfect. I licked my lips, remembering the sweet taste of her juices on my tongue. I could feel her clenching around me as I pounded her. Hear her voice, calling me an asshole and a prick over the regular, rhythmic sound of my hips smacking into hers as I filled her over and over again. But then she made these delicate sounds that were desperate, almost tender. So I would kiss her. I had to. Pressing my lips to hers, I kissed Carmen, not to shut her up but to soothe the ache, the need that I felt too.

And then there were the slaps. Before I plunged into her the first time, on the floor of that ridiculous limousine, she fixed me with a look. A stare that wasn’t mean or cold, just intense. It was a warning. She slapped me, her soft hand striking me hard on the cheek, and goddamn it felt… right. It was everything. I roared. She slapped me again.

So I took her. I fucked her so hard there was rug burn on her ass. I saw it later when we got to my hotel, where we fucked again. In the shower, on the floor, in bed. Up against the floor-to-ceiling windows. All the while she bit me and scratched me, on the chin, my neck and chest, my back and ass, hurting me, marking me. Carmen yelled at me, angrily and desperately, and I gave as good as I got. I’d call her a bitch, and she’d whimper. Call her a brat, and she’d scream for me to fuck her harder. And when she would call me an asshole, a stuck up prick, a whore, I moaned and redoubled my efforts. She was right. I was a whore. But only for her.

Carmen the witch. Carmen the temptress. Carmen the devil. She cursed me. I haven’t been able to come since. Not even at home in the comfort of my own bed, myself in hand, porn playing on my laptop. I could get hard, but I would not come. I couldn’t be bothered with the girls I’d spy on the tube, the forward ones who’d get off at my stop and try to follow me home, or buy me a coffee. Like adorable puppies, each and every one. But who wants a girl when the only thing you crave is a woman?

The elevator door made a soft chiming noise as it arrived on my floor. I looked at the number scrawled on the paper jacket that contained my room key, then followed the signs to a door at the end of a long corridor. My room was dark, warm and quiet. The shades were open, and outside the city’s lights twinkled, providing the only light I could see. Without my glasses, I couldn’t see much, just the outline of the bed that was so welcoming after a long day. I set down my bags, pulled off my jacket and boots, then lay down and closed my eyes.

I felt someone roll over and throw an arm and a leg around me. I froze. _This is the correct room, is it not?_ I thought. If I could just get up and dash to the door, I could either call security to deal with this intruder, or convince them that I wasn’t a criminal myself. I looked to the side so I could size up the person beside me.

What. The. Fuck.

**Carmen**

In my dream, I was lying on a cloud that smelled like marzipan. Michael Fassbender, who had been rubbing sunscreen on my tummy, smiled then asked me to roll over so he could do my back. I did, and that’s when I woke up.

I woke up in my dark room on my large bed, in my underwear, with my arm and leg thrown over none but the English motherfucker himself.

Tom “The English Dick” Hiddleston.

“What the fuck!”

“It’s you!”

We sprang apart, rolling to opposite sides of the bed. I grasped the sheets in my fists, but didn’t try to cover myself. The room was dark and besides, it’s not like we hadn’t already seen each other naked.

“I’m still sleeping, aren’t I? This is a dream, right? Michael Fassbender was about to rub sunscreen on my back and now it’s you again and you’re going to…”

“It’s… it’s not a dream.” Tom, who had been holding his breath while I was babbling, finally let himself exhale. The only light in the room came from outside, and it cast an eerie glow on his face. The high cheekbones and soft lips, a long nose that shouldn’t have worked but did. His hair was still short, but there were small curls on his brow.

Despite the warmth of the room, I shivered. Tom reached towards the foot of the bed, grabbing the cashmere shawl folded there. He tossed it to me gently, and I nodded at him as I wrapped it around my shoulders. I leaned towards the nightstand on my side of the bed, flicking it on so we could regard each other warily.

“What are you doing here?”

“I live here.”

“In this hotel room?”

“No, in Chicago, you dummy.”

Tom laughed softly. “I know. I know.” He smiled weakly. “You look nice, Carmen.”

“Thanks, Tom.” I bit my lip. “What are you doing here?”

“In this hotel room?” Tom laughed.

I stuck my tongue out at him. “Well, yeah, but Chicago in general, you dummy.”

“I had another meeting. With the architect.”

“The one you’re playing?” Tom nodded yes. “What’s he like?”

“Funny. Precise. Fit. Remarkably thick hair for a man in his seventies.” Tom chuckled ruefully as he ran his hand through his hair. “I may need a wig for this part.”

“Stop it.” I crawled back to the center of the bed and knelt in front of him. “I like your hair.”

“Or rather what’s left of it.”

“Hush.” I shifted so I could sit cross-legged. I didn’t move when Tom crawled closer to join me. He reached out to brush his fingers through the curls that cascaded over my left shoulder.

“Carmen?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you in my room?”

“Tom, you’re in my room. I checked in this afternoon. There’s a fundraiser downstairs. For the library.” I smirked when Tom began to laugh.

“This is the room I had until this morning, when I checked out.”

“What a coincidence.”

“A mix-up, more like. Should we call down, straighten this out?”

“No. Not yet. I think we, you and I, we have some unfinished business.”

Tom nodded, then took a deep breath. “I would have called…”

“But I left you.”

“In the middle of the night. You didn’t leave your information.”

“That was the idea.”

“Why?”

“Because we’d just spent something like the previous 12 hours calling each other every nasty thing we could think of while we fucked each other raw?”

“Which part did you like best?”

“Huh?”

“The fighting, or the fucking?”

I laughed at the question. “Yes.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Yes it is. It’s mine.”

Tom looked down at the space that separated us, peering at my knees that stuck out from under the shawl that hung around my shoulders.

“Tom,” I whispered. “I thought you should know that… I’m sorry.” It killed me to apologize, but I knew I had to.

“What are you sorry for?” He sounded so sweet, and it just made me feel a little worse, but I got a warm feeling in my belly just the same.

“For… for welcoming you to the tour the way that I did. I was so nervous about the donors, and I didn’t know you were joining us. It threw me, this beautiful man spending the afternoon…”

**Tom**

I looked up from Carmen’s soft knees to find her eyes downcast. I reached out, running the tip of my finger under her chin to lift it so her gaze met mine.

“You think I’m beautiful.”

“Of course, you idiot,” she whispered. “You know you are.”

“Takes one to know one,” I ventured, and Carmen rewarded me with a blush.

“What are we, 12?”

“Maybe,” I replied. “Something about being in your library, surrounded by all those books and these academics, and you so confident and alluring, I felt like I was 13 years old again, a nervous wreck on my first day at Eton.”

“Ah.” Carmen nodded. “So it probably didn’t help that we all teased you about your education.”

“I probably needn’t be so smug, so proud of it.”

“But it’s Cambridge! And you graduated with honors.”

It was my turn to blush. “You looked me up?”

Carmen shrugged. “I may have already known who you were. As soon as I saw you standing there, in my library, under that great dome.”

“Then why did you pretend…”

“I didn’t want to be your fangirl, Tom.” Carmen rubbed the bridge of her nose, then drew the blanket around her tighter. “I just… I wanted to be cool, tall, vulnerable and luscious.” I looked at her in confusion. “It’s a song. By Liz Phair. Anyway, I thought, _This man would never look my way, so why talk to him? Don’t bother flirting. Reject him, reject the notion that he could possibly see you that way, before he can reject you.”_

She looked miserable. So beautiful, and so miserable. I reached out for her hand, then brought it up to my lips to kiss it.

“And then you fought back! You talked to me and then we were yelling and I liked it. I couldn’t help myself. But if you were going to be another in the parade of handsome men who thought I was great to talk to but not desirable enough to kiss…”

 _Right,_ I thought. _Enough._

I leaned towards Carmen, pushing her so she fell onto her side, her legs unfolding as I did. I straddled her, taking her wrists in my hands so I could pin her beneath me. I bent down to nuzzle her cheek, growling softly in her ear.

“But…” I prompted her.

“But you kissed me. And then you fucked me. You took me, and I thought I hated you. I hated myself for wanting you so so badly. And I was hoping it would be bad, the sex, or just mediocre. Because you’d leave and I could say, _Well, now I can move on._ But it was good. It was so good, and I… I can’t… I haven’t been able to…”

“You can’t come, either?” I whispered in her ear.

Carmen shook her head, then turned to press her lips to mine. I released my grip on her wrists, cradling her head in my hands as I deepened the kiss, teasing her tongue with mine.

“I’m sorry you can’t come.” She rolled her hips, and I moaned when I felt the heat between her legs against my cock. She kissed my neck. “I’m sorry I was a brat.”

“Never be sorry for that,” I murmured.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“But your voice is so warm and smoky. I rather enjoyed it.” I licked the soft spot behind her ear, and she laughed.

“I’m sorry I made fun of you.”

“You’ve got my number, as you Yanks like to say. You’re right about me being an asshole, a prick, a whore.” I kissed her again, suckling on her swollen bottom lip.

Carmen broke the kiss to press a soft one of her own to the corner of my mouth. “I…”

I slid a hand between her legs and brushed my fingers over her panties, which were soaked. She whimpered.

“What is it, darling?”

“I… I’m sorry I slapped you.”

 _Jesus._ I could only moan obscenely before I somehow found words to speak. “I deserved it.” I looked in her eyes. “I liked it.”

“Oh.”

“I deserved it because… I’m not a nice man. I’m not a good man.”

“Liar,” she whispered. “You’re a good man.”

Carmen reached down and slipped her hand into my trousers. I gasped when she ran her thumb over the head of my cock.

“You’re a good man. But…” She bit my jaw. “I think you’ve been a bad boy.”

**Carmen**

Tom took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as he looked at my face. Still straddling me, he drew himself up and began to unbutton his shirt. While his fingers worked slowly down from his neck, I unzipped his fly. I pushed his trousers down on his hips, then took his cock in my hands and stroked it gently. Tom closed his eyes and hissed, but he didn’t quicken the pace at which he opened and then removed his shirt. His hips bucked, and we moaned together as his hard cock pumped into my soft hands.

As much as it killed me to do so, I released him. I had to, so I could take his hands in mine, kiss the long, elegant fingers, then place them carefully on my breasts, still trapped in this uncomfortable bra. A sleepy grin on his face, Tom opened his eyes as he reached around my back and undid the clasp. He ran his hands down my breasts and then to my belly as I lay back on the bed. I sucked in my stomach, trying to flatten it and he gave me a stern look. When I relaxed under his touch, he mouthed _Good girl,_ and continued to trace an invisible line down my body with his fingers to my sex.

Tom moved back so he was no longer hovering over me. He placed a hand on each of my hips, waiting for me to make the next move. I hooked his index fingers over my panties, and he slowly drew them off, sucking his teeth when I dug my heels into the bed so I could lift my hips up. Working them down my legs, he crumpled them up and placed them in his pocket. He stood up, removed his trousers and socks then looked at me.

He licked his lips, then knelt on the floor at the foot of the bed. He helped me slide closer to the edge, then wrapped his hands around my ankles. I felt him push my legs apart, bending them at the knee, ass raised ever so slightly.

“Take your hands, and slide them, palms down, under your ass. Please.”

I obeyed, whimpering as my hips rose up ever so slightly under my forearms. I was open and exposed, vulnerable to this man who was practically a stranger but he’d found his way in. I tried to bring my knees together. Tom shook his head.

“No, darling. Relax. Let your legs fall apart. I want to see you.”

I could feel tears pricking my eyes. I wasn’t scared, but I knew I wasn’t in control.

“Tom,” I whispered. “Tom. What are you doing to me?”

“Darling.” Tom rubbed his cheek against my leg, and I shivered at the feeling of his stubble scraping my stocking.

“This is me… apologizing.”

**Tom**

I kissed the inside of Carmen’s left ankle, letting my lips linger on her flesh. I couldn’t help but laugh when she hiccuped once, then again. It was so sweet.

“Do you need some water?”

“No.”

“Do you want me to stop.”

A pause. “No.”

“Alright, darling. Let us begin.”

I nuzzled her left ankle, then pushed myself up slightly. My belly resting on the bed, knees planted on the plush carpet, I got comfortable. I took my time.

I kissed one calf, then licked the other. Her legs jerked slightly when my hands grasped her behind the knees. I tickled the spot behind each with my fingers, waiting for her to finish laughing before my face came tantalizingly close to her cunt. I helped her shift so her thighs rested on my shoulders, and I could stroke them while I lapped at her wet slit. I groaned when I felt the pressure of her heels resting on my back.

I moaned into her folds _(so soft)_ , then pushed my tongue deeper into her _(so delicious)_. The scent of her arousal, the taste of her juices on my tongue, and then the feeling of her body underneath me. It was intoxicating. I was drunk on her.

And then there was her clit. A tumescent pearl, a treasure. I curled the tip of my tongue around it, swirling it before I took it between my lips to suckle.

Carmen struggled, tried to speak. “Please… oh fuck. Tom, I need to hold… something.”

I released her clit from my mouth, gave it a slow lap with my tongue, then gazed up at her. I shook my head. “No, darling. No. You don’t need to hold onto anything.” I kissed her inner thigh.

“I’ve got you.”

**Carmen**

_Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucccccccccckkkkkkkk._

**Tom**

I resumed my feast, tracing the contours of her slick folds with my tongue while my thumb was employed to massage her clit. One, then two fingers on my other hand found their way inside her, sought out that sensitive spot that, when brushed…

**Carmen**

_Ah! SHIT. SHIT. SHIT. OH GOOOOOOOOOOD. FUCK YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS._

**Tom**

Fingers curled inside her, my mouth returned to her clit and I licked her again, tenderly, before I sucked. Long and hard, eyes closed, inhaling her deeply. She cried for me and, fuck me, I shed a tear for her.

I raised my head, wiped my mouth on the back of my hand, then kissed her soft belly. She squirmed when I dipped my tongue into her navel.

“Tom…”

“Yes?” I pressed my cheek to her belly, and let my head rest for a second.

“My arms…”

“Oh! Do they hurt? I should have said…” I looked up at her, and felt relief when she smiled at me as she shook her head.

“No, it’s just… I want to touch you. I want to touch you so bad.”

I thought about it for a second.

“I want you to touch me, too.”

I reached around her, waiting for Carmen to raise her hips before I drew her arms out and placed them carefully on shoulders. She flexed her fingers, then brought them up to rake my hair.

**Carmen**

“That’s nice,” I whispered. “Your hair is so soft.”

Tom nuzzled my belly, and I laughed. I didn’t care that my belly shook like a waterbed. Or that my body was stretchmark city. I just felt good.

My shoulders ached a little. Otherwise I was fine.

“Buddy?”

“Mmm?” Tom raised his head to look at me, a dreamy expression on his face.

“Come up?” I closed my eyes, and felt the bed shift as he accepted my invitation. He rested on top of me, giving me the weight of his body to bear. When his cock brushed against my sex, we groaned in unison.

I rolled my hips and so Tom raised his, making a space large enough for my hand to take his cock and guide him to my entrance. He looked at me questioningly.

 _Ready?_ His eyes asked.

I blinked at him, then nodded.

_Yes._

Tom pushed into me slowly, giving me time to adjust to the size of him. Time that I didn’t really need, but I appreciated it just the same. When he was fully sheathed, I slipped my arms around his back and hugged him. I just embraced him, relished how solid he felt, how present he was in my arms. I kissed the base of his throat, and he sighed. I licked the same tender spot, and he laughed his funny little laugh. _Eheheheheheheheheh._

He kissed the top of my head, then began to roll his hips. My breath hitched as I began to moan into his chest. I listened to him, heard him panting _(“Oh… ugh… yes… “)_ then grunting as he increased the speed at which he snapped his hips. I bit his chest when that delicious sound was joined by the liquid sound of him pumping into me, cock almost slipping out before it plunged right back in. The rhythm was steady, like a drum, or a heart. I should have been egging him on, winding him up, to get him to lose control. But there’d be time enough for that. He didn’t need my help.

“Tom… oh Tom. You’re so big. The biggest…” I trailed off, then cried out when he moved faster and harder. I snuck a look at his face. His eyes were closed with concentration, and there were beads of sweat on his head and neck. I licked him, and his eyes opened. The pupils were blown, and he looked possessed. But there was something else… something that I needed to do.

I freed my hands, and dug my heels into his ass. He grimaced, then chuckled.

“Brat.”

“Yes,” I whispered. Sliding my left hand between my legs, I circled my clit frantically, matching his rhythm. My right hand trailed slowly up his torso, pausing to tweak his nipple, then flit over my own, before coming to rest on his neck.

“Tom?”

“Yeah?”

SLAP.

I hit him, and the world collapsed in on itself before it came apart.

Tom bucked into me so hard I felt him everywhere — my fingers, my toes, my nipples, and in my clit. Everywhere that was touched by him, longed for him. His hips slammed into me hard when he came, and I screamed his name. Just once. But it was enough. Loud enough. Long enough. He covered my mouth with his and we gasped before kissing so deeply and so sweetly. Sucking on swollen lips, teasing tongues and white teeth for nipping at tender flesh, we kissed so passionately I felt the world come to a full and complete stop.

I didn’t know what this was. This feeling. I’ve come before, but never like this. Except for the last time. That last time with Tom. The only thing I can compare it to is the calm after a snowstorm, when the world is covered in white and you have nothing to do but wonder at it. The peace of sliding into a bed with clean, fresh sheets. The small wonder of looking at a snowglobe after you’ve shaken it, set it down, and waited for it to work its magic.

**Tom**

SLAP.

_YES._

She hit me, and I came. I was already on my way, pounding into her so fast I thought I might break apart in her arms. I would have been satisfied to have the last sound I heard be her gasping in my ears, the last touch be her hands caressing the nape of my neck. Her eyes saw me, looked into me, and she smiled. Like an angel.

She slapped me once, hard, on the cheek. I would have fucked her for as long as she liked, waiting, holding my breath, waiting for that strike. She took mercy on me, and hit me. A bright, sharp pain.

Just like I wanted. Just like I needed.

I don’t know how long we lay there, heaving and gasping for air. I pushed myself off her, then flopped at her side. She hooked a leg over mine. I slipped my hand into hers.

We breathed.

“I think you ruined my stockings.”

I turned to look at her face. “Sorry.”

She returned my gaze. “You owe me $75.”

“You paid [$75 for those stockings](http://www.wolfordshop.com/product/boutique/silk-crystal-stay-up/28072/g500004725)?!”

She arched her eyebrow at me. “I did.”

“How can stockings possibly cost that much money?”

“Because stockings like these are worth that much money.” She bit her lip. “And you’re paying for the room.”

The cheek… “Fine.” I nipped at her shoulder. “Brat.”

Carmen turned so she could nuzzle at my shoulder. She brought her hand to rest on my chest, tweaking the nipple with a smirk. “Asshole.”

Before I could say anything, she kissed my bicep, closed her eyes, and hummed tunelessly until, at last, we fell fast asleep.


End file.
